


Fuck you Buddy

by peachybeeb



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: & triggering stuff but there won't be much, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Roommates, fuck buddies, i'll tag the smut on the chapters, lovers bit is slow burn smut is quick lol, roommate au, this is smutty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-09-02 05:45:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16780810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachybeeb/pseuds/peachybeeb
Summary: Alexander Hamilton and Thomas Jefferson are roommates, not friends. They're also fuck buddies, not lovers. Or so, they keep telling themselves.





	1. Mac n'Cheese with a side of Theories

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to i can't finish fics and need to immediately write new ideas that come to mind! i hope you enjoy and let me know in the comments if you'd like to see more of this AU! 
> 
> PS. my french is okay but a bit rusty, feel free to correct me!

Getting a roommate was less of a _want,_ and much more of a _need_ for Alexander Hamilton. 

His job was a taxing nine-to-five that left him with a sore throat and even more sore feet; chasing about higher ups with inquiries and messages like some damn paper boy. But writing was his passion, so he was willing to put up with that bullshit if it earnt him a few of his articles published in the Washington Newspaper. Though this was entirely why he had needed a roommate - pay wasn't exactly flooding his life like an attractive waterfall, his bank account much more resembled some sort of manmade drought with the seamless payments towards greasy take outs and even greasier bus drivers. 

_If John would just let me walk home this wouldn't be a problem..._ he grumbled to himself as he stepped off of the said-vehicle, an hour away from his place of work. Which meant, a two hour walk. Dumbass. 

Tinder probably wasn't the best place to find a roommate, he didn't need some creep living with him. Swiping to like every photo of countless people he'd never meet was definitely _not_ at the top of the list of 'Best Decisions' he'd ever made, but considering consequences had never exactly been his speciality. 

"Kraft Mac n'Cheese isn't exactly the 'house-warming-smell' I want to come home too." 

That's how he'd met Thomas Jefferson.

His tall roommate was stood in the kitchen, adorned in the most expensive-looking silky satin robe, magenta in tone and leaving little to nothing left for imagination. That and some fuzzy pink slippers was what Jefferson had homed as 'comfort'.

"Fuck you, it's delicious," was quipped back to him with a yellowing wooden spoon waved in his direct, the sickly squelching of cheese and pasta almost making him gag. If he'd known the extent of the other's cooking skills, he wouldn't have made the meals-rota to be shared between himself and the Virginian. 

Alexander gracelessly dumped his satchel and coat onto the kitchen table, popping a few taut muscles in his back with a groan. No one should be getting home from work at eight in the evening, but he absolutely needed to impress Mr. Washington if he wanted to be promoted to a more top position at the newspaper firm, preferably the man's secretary. 

He was practically torn from his thoughts at the gurgling sound that rumbled from his stomach, suddenly interested in that slop Jefferson called 'French-cuisine'. It was an oddly domestic setting, Jefferson filling two bowls with their dinner and taking garlic bread out of the oven. Sure, the sarcastic man wasn't his first choice as far as housemates went, but he'd been just as equally on-board to the whole 'Finding A Housemate Through Dating Apps' as Alexander himself had been. 

"Did you actually _eat_ anything today or did you just skip all meals like an idiot again?" 

Hamilton frowned at the snap from said-roommate, instead taking a seat as dinner was served for him. "You know, some of us don't get to just doodle pretty pictures for money all day," he retorted, referencing the career the other excelled in. Thomas was an amazing artist, as much as he hated to admit it, and made a heavy sum through his self-employment with random commissions and a few permanent customers. 

"It's _art_ , you literal gremlin," was Thomas' huffed response before he dug in to his meal, lazily scrolling through this phone as he slurped up yellow tubes. 

Alex himself reluctantly caved and began eating his own food, bitterly ignoring how it did taste nice. Thomas did some weird seasoning thing to the basic food that made its flavours flourish on ones tastebuds. He'd compliment the other if he wasn't such a big-headed douchebag. 

He was surprised to see brown eyes glaring daggers into him as he met the other's gaze, slowly realising his thoughts had actually been an 'outer' monologue that the other had heard. The gaze turned sarcastically sweet as Thomas reached over to pinch his cheek, roughly tugging at his skin with a drawled "Aw, well aren't you sweet. What did I ever do to deserve such a _man's_ attention?" 

But he, as per usual, wasn't one to back down from teasings. "Why, by just being the sweetest little housewife in all of New York City, of course." His attempt at the southern accent Thomas was equipped with was more than horrid, earning a laugh from his darker skinned roommate. 

"God, you suck, please never do that again." He felt a familiar warm feeling at the way Jefferson attempted to hide his amusement, only egging Alex on further. 

"Do what?" The innocence of his question was completely abandoned by the strong southern-twinge he tried with it, only making Thomas further choke a bit on his mac. 

"Okay, that's it, I'm officially moving out." 

"Oh god no, please, how could I survive without shitty stove pasta and someone singing the Mamma-Mia soundtrack at two in the morning?!"

A fork was aimed in his direction like a bow-and-arrow, its target being a grin plastered on Hamilton's face. "You take that back, Mamma-Mia is a master piece." 

"No, _ABBA_ is the master piece. The original songs are so much better." 

"Don't even start with me, Mister 'the movies just aren't the _same_ as the books'." Perfectly manicured fingers framing the other's words with air quotes only made Alexander seethe further, making sure his response was hissed like a snake at the afro-adorned prick. 

"That's because they aren't!"

"News flash, princess, the books don't matter."

A scoff, "If I'm the princess that makes you the fucking jester." He was proud of that one. 

"I'm the queen as you damn well know-" 

Their usual argument was cut short by a shock of music vibrating from the southerner's phone. Alex watched Thomas both frown and groan as he scanned quickly over the caller (whom he didn't even get to read the caller ID of, dammit Jefferson), before snatching up the phone and moving to stand. A long finger was again thrust into his face, a piercing frown hissing a: "This isn't over, short stack." Before Thomas rapidly excused himself from the table. 

Alexander watched the tall man saunter down into the hallway, speaking in hushed tones down the phone. His relationship with Thomas Jefferson was, more or less, complicated. 

They'd been roommates for five months now. Friends? Not exactly. Alexander didn't think that one could bicker with their friends as much as he and Jefferson did. Often times they'd stay up until ungodly hours of the morning arguing about a film, about a book, about if a damn colour was considered more purple or more pink (that particular argument has lasted _six hours_ ). He'd never simultaneously gotten along with and so passively be annoyed by another person in his entire life. From the moment he'd met this pompous, plum-wearing, fake-french poodle; he'd known they would never exactly be the best of friends. 

He was torn out of his musings as said-man returned to the table, plopping into his seat and looking less than pleased. Not like Alexander particularly cared ((keep telling urself that sweetcheeks)), but goddamn was he curious. Thomas had little to no drama in his life after all. 

"Something the matter?" 

He was surprised to not be met with one of Thomas' infamous scoffs or roll of those brown eyes, instead the man merely pushed at his left overs with a fork as if he was somehow using it to think on a response. "There's been this guy I've done a steady stream of commissions for during the past few weeks," he settled on, a lazy southern drawl that carried a hint of irritation. _Had this guy really been bothering Thomas this much?_

"So that isn't a good thing? The more the better, right?" He interrupted, giving a slight funny look to his roommate until an idea caught in his mind, and he smirked. "Unless he's requesting you draw, like, super kinky porn. Got you all flustered?" 

That earned him the aforementioned eye roll, and a slight shove across the table from the Virginia. "No, you actual garden gnome. He's been asking me to go on a date, over and over, and I'm running out of excuses..." 

Alexander had never felt this feeling before. It burned like a cigarette snubbed into his gut, secured a tight squeeze of rubber bands across his chest. He could feel his own frown matching Thomas' across the table. _Not like I particularly care..._ he reminded himself, cruelly, like a parent convincing a child Santa Claus still existed. "Why the excuses?" He forced out of his throat, questioning feeling like a much better avenue to venture down. 

"He's not my type, to say the very least," Was that panic he saw on Jefferson's face? But then again, the way in which the man spoke always worked wonders to mask his true emotions. Hamilton refused to acknowledge how he could read him like a book. "It wouldn't be exciting, with Burr. He's lacking in fire, would go along with everything I say." 

Hamilton laughed then, a booming, uncontrolled sound that was only met with a complete deadpan from Thomas. Alex feigned wiping tears away before he replied. "I find it beyond impossible to believe that you, Thomas _'I'm Always Right'_ Jefferson, wants to date someone that questions everything and anything." 

Thomas was merely watching him through his rant, almost fondly as he cleaned away the bowls and plate of their dinner. "Oh, Alexander..." his voice was the absolute pinnacle of mirth, a tone that made Alexander slightly squirm in his chair. "You clearly don't know much about me."

With that, he was left in the dining room. Mysterious as a cliffhanger to some sort of novel. 

\---

"And then he goes _'You clearly don't know much about me'_. Like, what the fuck?" 

For someone who 'hates' Thomas Jefferson, Alexander talks about him way too much. 

He's ranting down the phone at one of his best friends, Lafayette. He blindly watches the Frenchman watching him rant from his room (or, bathroom within his room. Can't have Jefferson hearing too much), not even sparing a thought that the Virginian asshole had been the topic of conversation for far too many video calls lately.

"Well...he does have a eh, point, non?" Lafayette is the one to perk up, a mutual friend between Thomas and himself before they had even met. "A person doesn't often take the time to properly get to know someone they _hate_ , Alexander." 

Hamilton groaned at that, feeling the cool tile against his neck, and knowing the other was right to some extent. He had an itching feeling around Thomas, like an irritating want to _know_ him. Sure, he was aware of the other's quirks, mannerisms, the smaller things like music, TV shows and films. But hell, he knew next to nothing about the other's personal life. 

"Have you considered at all that you maybe do not 'hate' Thomas?" 

It was time for him to stare at Laf, incredulously at that. "Of course I do. Listen, I know he's your friend also, but he's _insufferable_ ," the two of them were like fire and ice. They butted heads at practically every element in their lives, argued about anything and everything on a good day and ended up slamming doors to their bedroom's in frustration on bad ones. "We're like on two different ends of a pole." 

His friend sighed, finishing up tying his messy curls into a neat bun. He was thankful Laf went back to his usual hairstyle, he looked chillingly similar to Thomas when his hair was down like that. "Yes but, do you not think that it could be fun to at least try to be friends? _A mon avis_ you did not even give the the other a chance to approach the eh, subject of 'friendship' because you were too focused on being roommates!" 

Alex rolled his eyes at his friend, stubbornly pushing down the tiny weeny possibility that Laf was, again, speaking the truth. "And that's what we'll continue to be." He watched his friend groan, throwing his arms up in the air and muttering out a string of French curses. "And that way you'll continue to get these riveting little rants from your favourite roommate!" 

His usual shit-eating-grin didn't last for much longer, however, as he listened to the muttered French on Lafayette's end: _"Tu est extrêmement pénible. Je pense que il a juste envie de te baiser."_

There was no way in _hell_ Laf was being serious. He felt a vicious flush stain his cheeks as he frowned at his friend through the sharp screen, the redness increasing even more at the laughter he was teased with. 

"I'm not joking, _mon chou_ ," Lafayette continued, ignoring the bristling from Alex. "If the two of you just fucked and let out all that anger, I'm sure you'd be quite pleasant friendship." 

Hamilton didn't bother correcting his friend's English, as he actually got to thinking about his theory. Of course it'd crossed his mind once or twice. As loathe as he was to admit it, Jefferson was hot. The kind of hot that belonged in magazines and plastered on billboards. He had thick muscles, large hands, and though he'd never seen him completely naked he was beyond positive other things would be similar in size. He was the most handsome man Alexander had seen before, with that ridiculous hair and his stupid brown eyes. Sharp jaw line, a beautifully dumb smile. Fuck, if he didn't _know_ Jefferson he'd get a slice to go, maybe it was something to think about?

"Just think about it, Alex." As if reading his mind, Lafayette prompted him. He gave a weak smile to his friend, never one to find it easy to admit someone else was right.

"Thanks, Laf," his usual bold voice was a bit quieter now as he exchanged goodbyes with his friend. 

The man flopped back in his bed, letting the worn springs bounce him up gently as he stared up at the white ceiling, mind racing a million miles a second. Lafayette had known Thomas longer than he had, did he know something about Thomas in that area that Hamilton didn't? Is that what he did? He could definitely picture Thomas roughing someone up after an argument, trying to (and definitely achieving in) asserting dominance. 

_Okay, okay, he'd definitely be good..._ He thought almost warily, physically snapping his eyes closed and forcing himself not to think about that for now. He didn't need to start picturing Thomas doing certain things with that smart mouth. With his big hands and...he worked out, didn't he? His stamina would be fantastic. Alex was smaller than him, he was sure Thomas would be able to pick him up, pin him down wherever he wanted to as he- 

Okay. He had a little bit of thinking to do.


	2. Pastel Walls and Ogre Arguments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's way too much talk about shrek in this chapter. thomas has alex saved under 'Hamilbitch' on his phone, and alex has thomas saved under 'Jeffershit' on his phone. couple goals tbh

Alexander had hardly been able to think straight the next day, his thoughts constantly fluttering to what Laf had planted into his brain like a ripe seed in soil: 

_"I think he just wants to fuck you."_

"Alex? Alexander?" Said-man was roused from his primary thought that Friday by his co-worker John Laurens. They'd instantly clicked when Alex had began working for the company two years ago, and he truly considered John to be one of his best friends. Turning to look at the other, he saw a gentle frown of concern laced on the curly-haired man's features. "Are you alright, dude? You've been...kinda zoning out today. What's up?"

Alex stretched in his chair across from the other, the front of their desks pushed together and making it more than convenient for John to now be working there rather than the predecessor to that chair Aaron Burr. The man had barely lasted a week with Hamilton's sharp tongue calling him out on his various immoral bullshit. 

"Hm?" He finally answered his awaiting friend, seeing Lauren's slightly worried expression. It wasn't common for Alexander to be so far away from the present after all. "Sorry, John. My brain malfunctions on Friday afternoons." 

Any worries his friend had were wiped away and replaced with a laugh that made Alex beam too. "Jeez, the great Alexander Hamilton is admitting that his brain is _faulty?_ ," the man feigned surprised whilst Alexander threw a crushed up ball of paper at his head. "I never thought I'd see the day!" Was practically yelled to the office after a deft dodging of said-throw. 

"Unlike your inferior mortal brains, mine only needs a temporary lapse once for five minutes every Friday afternoon before transforming back into its original superior excellence." 

John was looking at him, chin cupped in a lazy hand. After a few seconds of an impromptu staring competition, the man blinked "Why am I friends with you again?" 

It was Alexander's turn to laugh now, leaning back in his worn office chair to cope with the humour coursing through his limbs. "Because I have a hot french friend you want to hook up with," watching Lauren's face turn from smug to flustered and red felt like his own personal victory. John had met Lafayette on one occasion so far, about three weeks ago. The mutual friend of Thomas and himself had been staying over in the former of the two's room whilst Jefferson was visiting his hometown in Virginia. Long story short; John had knocked on the door to be met with a stunning piece of muscle wrapped in booty shorts, a half-completed button up and black rimmed glasses. All topped off with a messy bun like the ruby cherry on a scrumptious cake. 

"It's not- I don't just want to hook up with him!" John demanded, ever the gentleman. 

"Well, you can explore more than 'just hook up' when he visits from France again next month," Alex teased with a grin, standing to shove a variety of papers strewn messily across his desk into his satchel. Mr Washington had repeatedly reminded him that weekends were for _breaks_ , not extra work. But he couldn't be the best if he didn't go the extra mile. "I, for one, am heading home to a blissful evening of educating my roommate on all of the reasons why the second Shrek film is better than the first." 

John shook his head with a slight snicker as Alex finished packing up, snagging his travel mug from its prized position on his desk. He was currently riding on his seventh cup of coffee that day, filled with too much creamer and way too much sugar. _That reminds me, I need to pick up some more chocolate ch-_

"I've never seen two people flirt more than you and Thomas do." 

What the Fuck was up with people lately? Alex gawked at John, as if he genuinely couldn't believe what he was hearing. And he couldn't. Even after a mini-argument with his friend on how _'It's not flirting if you want to kill the other'_ he'd quickly scurried out of the pristine office building and onto the chilly streets of New York City. He could definitely do with the walk, despite the long distance to his home. The wispy November air licked at his cheeks and morphed his brain into a state of focus as he stared down at the concrete sidewalk. The city was always busy and bustling, it never slept, but he learnt to tune the harsh noises into calming background sounds - though, even the isolation didn't help to clear his clouded thoughts. 

Did it really come off as flirting to the outside world? Sure, he enjoyed bickering with the man, but he'd hardly call it flirting. Teasing, maybe, but they were both just headstrong, pent up individuals that found a unique high in a verbal battle. Even since the first night Thomas had settled into the apartment they'd been at each other's throats with petty _'No, the washing up liquid should be kept under the sink' _and _'There's no way you're hanging that monstrosity on the wall' _. Alexander kicked along the dirty pathway, gazing up at the bright skyscrapers towering over him. New York City was so much different from his home in Nevis; there was no fresh smell of the ocean or tropical aromas engulfing him, everything smelt slightly more polluted. But he enjoyed it more, it felt raw and exciting to know that it wasn't a calm paradise, much more his speed despite his love for the Caribbean.____

____A mute buzzing in his pocket drew him from his rambling thoughts, reaching into his pocket from muscle memory to bring the glowing screen into view._ _ _ _

_____(1) New Message_ _ _ _ _

____**Jeffershit:** _Okay, yes, holding out for a hero is an iconic scene - but nothing can beat Shrek, Donkey and Fiona escaping from Dragon's castle in the first film!_ _ _ _ _

____This feud had been going on over text since the moment he'd left the house with an off-handed comment about watching the most superior Shrek film tonight. After some quick sleuthing Hamilton realised Jefferson was the top of his recent message list, his number one snapchat best friend, and his most recent calls. Not even Lafayette or John were anywhere near close to Thomas. _'Do I have a problem?'_ he thought warily as he thumbed out a response, ignoring the nagging feeling at the back of his mind. It was probably nothing. _ _ _ _

____**Hamilbitch:** _if u insult mongo like that again we're gonna have problems._ _ _ _ _

____After a quick inner-debate, he quickly added on a:_ _ _ _

____**Hamilbitch:** _almost home, u want anything from the store?_ _ _ _ _

____So he was being nice to the man, now? Alexander tried his best to focus on the quiet mini-mart more than whatever seamless indication his actions could have. The neon lighting, flashy packaging and bored-looking teenager at the counter seemed to be working well enough as he balanced a box of microwaveable popcorn and a bag of chocolate in one hand before he fished for his notifying phone once again._ _ _ _

____**Jeffershit:** _Well aren't you cute. Get a tub of chocolate Magnum ice cream, I'm feeling generous so you can share with me._ _ _ _ _

____Alexander could feel a slight shiver in his form with how he furiously tried to fight the blush blooming against his cheeks. It was definitely out of rage, because what else? He kept reminding himself this as he reached into the frosty freezer at the back of the store for the fancy-ass ice cream Thomas loved. Honestly, store brand tasted basically the same and was so much cheaper. The burn of cold against his hand didn't stop him from wondering why Jefferson was being nice to _him_ now as well. What was wrong with both of them? _ _ _ _

____He bid the lone worker a good night before he braced the cold streets again, thankful that it was only a short while to the house now. Clutching the cheap plastic handle of the grocery bag he rolled his eyes, knowing that he'd be lectured on not having taken one of Jefferson's fancy ass, hand woven shop bags. How did he end up living with someone like the other?_ _ _ _

____After another thirty minutes he arrived at their small estate, the glowing orange from the curtain-drawn windows promising him with warmth and causing goosebumps to simmer over his skin. The two hour walk from the office building was really kicking in through the dull ache in his legs and the numbness of his body, heightened by the cold night air. Yep, a cozy evening was definitely needed._ _ _ _

____"Good evening, Alexander," a familiar British voice called from his left, allowing him to turn his attention to his silver-haired neighbour._ _ _ _

____"Hey, King," he responded pleasantly to the infamous George King, profusely demanding people to use his last name. He'd had a rocky start with the other after having a particularly harsh argument with the man's boyfriend on religion. It had frustrated him how stubborn the other had been, not used to having people so adamantly challenging his beliefs. It was probably a big factor in why he enjoyed the couple's company now after having gotten off on the wrong foot last year. "How are you?"_ _ _ _

____He felt warm amusement at the exaggerated way the other groaned, tossing his head back in frustration and returning back to meet his gaze with a pout. "Dreadful. My darling Sammy isn't back until Monday from his trip to England," he watched the British man's hands sulk through stylish short curls in his distress. "My hands are getting _exhausted_ , Alexander." _ _ _ _

____Alex was beyond used to the man's crude and brash language, not even batting an eyelid at the indication of his sexual self-discoveries since his boyfriend had been abroad. He used to find it astounding how vocal and open the British man was. "Three more sleeps, King," he reminded his eccentric neighbour as he fished for his house keys buried deep within his satchel. "I abundantly believe in your hands' abilities to fulfil the fiery pleasure you seek until your blonde boy-toy comes back." His words were laced with fake-mirth, almost poetic and causing a laugh from the bubbly man._ _ _ _

____"Why thank you, darling," the two men simultaneously stepped up to their front doors, George King's mood seemingly significantly brighter as he grinned and left Alex with wishes of a good night before closing a broad mahogany door behind himself._ _ _ _

____Hamilton shook his head in fondness, already in a good mood for the evening as he pushed his key into the door; granting himself access into his humble abode. The man's body welcomed the toasty warmth greedily, making him almost moan as he worked to remove his scarf and hang it onto the coat hooks by the front door._ _ _ _

____"Tell me you did not only wear a fucking scarf to walk home."_ _ _ _

____And all that warmth and welcome came shattering down._ _ _ _

____Alexander's eyes rolled all the way back into his head at the accusatory tone of his roommate, turning to frown at the infamous Thomas Jefferson. Said-roommate was stood with a mug of something steamy in it, glaring daggers into the shorter man. Hamilton was definitely openly gawking at the taller of the pair, as the hot beverage Thomas was holding definitely matched its owner. Jefferson was stood there, in the middle of their house, wearing nothing but a pair of silken plum boxers. He had a few hipster-looking necklaces draped against his bare chest, the asshole, so pretentious and so, _so_ sexy. _ _ _ _

____Alexander was yanked from his blatant staring by a low hum from the subject of his gazing, his eyes moving up the man's muscular form to lock on his eyes. A fiery coil in his gut surfaced like a hot oven at the smug grin he was met with on Thomas' mouth. "Cat got your tongue, Hamilton?"_ _ _ _

____There was no way he was letting that immense shirtless-distraction stop him. "Cat's definitely got your fucking clothes, Jefferson," Another frown from the tall man was reward enough. "Got everything from the shop, you owe me five dollars." Rustling the bag slightly for show, he moved past his roommate and into the kitchen, trying to calm his pounding heart. Jesus Christ, Lafayette's words surfaced cruelly as he worked to empty the bag's contents onto the counter with shaking hands. The man was fucking _ripped_ , how dare he flaunt like a jewel right in front of Alex's goddamn eyes? _ _ _ _

____Hamilton gasped near-silently at a sudden weight in his pocket, feeling Jefferson's warmth behind him. Even his aura felt cocky and pretentious, dripping with a sultry, southern fragrance. "The five dollars," Thomas explained, tucking the single dollar bills into Alex's jean pocket with a large hand. God, he even had to be a prick about that too, didn't he?_ _ _ _

____"Asshole," Hamilton muttered as Thomas laughed much louder this time, leaning against the counter next to the Caribbean man to help him unload his few bits of shopping._ _ _ _

____"I wasn't kidding, Alexander," man-in-question turned to watch Thomas at the shift to a much more serious demeanour, suddenly feeling like a child in trouble. "Don't fucking waltz out of this house without a coat _again_ , you could get incredibly sick." _ _ _ _

____"What are you, my mom?" Defiant as ever, he fought back to Thomas' words even as he still felt a bite of chill in his finger tips. "I can deal with a little cold."_ _ _ _

____"Your lips are almost blue," Jefferson lifted a hand then, gripping Alexander's chin and leaving the shorter man gawking once again. Thomas took the opportunity to pad a thumb over the other's upper and top lip carefully, watching colour return to them. The moment was beyond intimate, Thomas literally massaging his lips with those thick fingers. He could always blame the redness on his cheeks due to the cold, but damn. It took a lot to get him flustered, but throw a slight hint of romantic nature at him and he was challenging a damn tomato in the redness-department._ _ _ _

____The dark-skinned man's hands left him then, causing a slightly empty feeling to replace it instead. Weird. "Uh, thanks," Alex coughed awkwardly, glad to see how nonchalant Thomas was about the situation as he waved the gratitude away with a lazy hand._ _ _ _

____"It's nothing. Anyways, I've got Shrek set up on the TV so I can lecture you on why it's much more superior than its second descendant film," he almost pushed Alex out of the kitchen then, resurfacing the distaste he had towards the rude southerner. "So you go and get yourself sorted and I'll prepare the snacks, princess." Nothing about his tone was sincere as he practically sneered at Alex, deconstructing any previous thanks he had to the man for warming him up. Shaking his head, Hamilton headed towards his bedroom down the hallway from the kitchen._ _ _ _

_____Even if the man did want to fuck you, why would you want to fuck him?_ his thoughts were finally catching up on him as he changed into comfier home clothes for the evening. A dark green hoodie than almost reached his knees, and a lazy pair of plaid pyjama bottoms. He shivered as he pulled on the other clothes, momentarily without any sort of shelter for his body before he was engulfed in soft fabrics once again. _ _ _ _

_____Sure, he's hot, but imagine how annoying he'd be..._ just the thought alone was enough to cause a different sort of shiver to course through his body as he let his satchel drop to the bed. His room was messy, desk piled high with various papers and books. His walls were nearly covered in posters and pictures, many of his friends that had become much more to be family. Jefferson was not included amongst them. _ _ _ _

____Alexander let his hair fall from its (somewhat) neat ponytail, his fingers massaging into his scalp in attempts to physically relieve the stress and tension he felt. The contact helped somewhat as he moved from his bedroom towards the living space, kicking his door closed behind him. Their house was small and stylish, mostly thanks to Jefferson. His artistic eye was amazing, although Alex would never admit it to his face. Marble-toned walls were tastefully decorated with large portraits and landscapes of Jefferson's art, the particular paintings lining the hallways pastel in tone. He enjoyed studying them for long, calming moments when Thomas wasn't home (no need to boast the man's ego anymore than necessary)._ _ _ _

____His socked feet carried him into the living room for another domestic setting greeting him. Thomas was bundled up in the couch with a large blanket, skimming over his phone with the coffee table pulled up close enough to easy access of snacks. A bowl of popcorn, some candies and chocolates, and the tub of ice cream with two spoons. Alex made his way over to sit on the couch, a dull ache pressing into his chest. He hated that he'd looked forwards to this all day, checked the clock at work regularly and felt adrenaline with each text message that filtered through to him from Jefferson. The man was an asshole to him on the best of days, teased him relentlessly and not in the fun way. Did that make it awful that he furiously came back for more bickering, like a drug?_ _ _ _

____"It's about time, Hamilton," Jefferson practically whined as Alex plopped down next to him, tugging the blanket to shield the shorter housemate as well. So hot and cold with his emotions. "And don't even think about not using this blanket, I'm not having you freeze to death in my presence."_ _ _ _

____Jeez, how many times had Alex rolled his eyes this evening alone? He felt as if he could faint from it at this point. "Gee, thanks, what ever would I do without you," the deadpan in his voice was ignored by Jefferson who started the film with a few clicks of the remote, the familiar magical sounds of the DreamWorks title sequence filling the room._ _ _ _

____"You know, you kind of look like Shrek."_ _ _ _

____"If I look like Shrek that makes you fucking Donkey, you chatty, small creature."_ _ _ _

____This would be one hell of a movie night._ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know if you enjoy! the next chapter is very very very exciting ;) see u then!


	3. Forgotten Phones and Purple Toiletries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: sexy stuff ;) enjoy and leave me comments and kudos they're like a drug to me all you beautiful ladies, men and non-binary friends

"Jesus Christ, do you cry every time you watch this?" 

Alexander couldn't help the laugh in his tone as he watched his roommate sniffling into lavender (of course) tissues. It was quite the scene indeed; the tall, jacked, intimidating Thomas Jefferson cuddled up in blankets, crying over an animated film about fucking ogres. The movie had consisted of frequent pauses to analyse the different elements they'd bickered on - thirty minutes of arguing over why an animated dragon had fallen in love with a donkey should not be what two grown men were doing on a Friday night. And even despite this, Alexander couldn't help but enjoy himself. 

"Fuck you, okay?" A snotty tissue was tossed at his person, making him yelp as he shifted out of the way just in time. "It's such a pure story." There was no bite in Jefferson's tone for the first time in the evening, it felt as if they were properly getting along for once, ever so slightly. Though was it really getting along if it was just not-fighting? 

Alexander stretched out his arms in a yawn as the credits rolled onto the screen, feeling the sleepless nights from the week finally catching up to him. His muscles felt as if they were trapped in a permanent squeeze, tight curls of knots glittered over his back. Christ, he more than needed to wind down with an early night's rest. He practically sprung up from the couch, startling his roommate who had seemingly begun dozing off himself too; before he stretched again in his standing position, giving more access to his numb limbs. He could feel his long hoodie riding up his back and stomach, but frankly he was far too tired to care as a cursory glance to the wall clock read out to him '1:15 AM'. 

"I'm fucking off to bed," he yawned at Jefferson who barely acknowledged him, already drowsy and curled up into the couch. Alexander would call it cute if he wasn't such a twat. 

Slightly tripping over his roommate's legs he pulled his tired body down the hallway and into the bathroom to tend to his teeth. The pair's toiletries were slightly scattered about the bathroom, various shampoos, body products and shower gel. Well, _his_ were scattered about at least. Thomas had bought himself one of those fancy organisers and nailed it into their bathroom walls, some sort of metallic-purple tacky mess that made Alex gag whenever he saw it. He had about a dozen hair products, ten different colognes, and an array of body washes all labelled for every day of the week. Who had the time? Hamilton physically sighed the thought out of his person as he rinsed and lathered up his toothbrush before cleaning his teeth. He definitely looked a tired wreck, hollow shadows framing his green eyes that were cracked with bloodshot lines. _Jefferson managed to almost never look tired..._ He thought bitterly as he clicked the tap off after he was suitably preened. _Probably some fucked up 'natural vitamins' he uses_

The thought of Thomas Jefferson unnecessarily ordering some exotic medication on a shady website was enough to amuse him as he got himself tucked into bed, curling up in the worn but comfortable sheets. Nothing felt more homey to him than his old blanket his late mother had crafted from scratch for him all those years ago. Everything was peaceful - until he reached blindly in the bed for his phone and came up empty handed. Shit, had he left it on the-? 

"For _fuck's_ sake," he groaned loudly as his suspicions were confirmed after a quick glance to his bedside table. He'd left the damn thing on the couch after the movie with Thomas. He'd rather die than have the man attempt to snoop through his phone or take a flurry of embarrassing images for him to wake up to. Hamilton miserably unraveled from his blanket-cocoon before trudging across his room and back into the hallway again. His hands were busy rubbing over his sleep-heavy eyes, ignoring Lafayette's curses echoing in his head of _"Your eyes will be left to nothing but shadows if you continue doing that"_ as he walked into the living room. Silly man, Alexander was resilient enough to endure anything, and he was sure a few bags weren't anything to be bothered- 

"What the fuck." 

A low moan had drawn Alex immediately out of his thoughts, his head surging up to meet a scene he was positive would be forever branded into his mind. Thomas, Mother-fucking, cocky, smart-mouthed, _idiotic_ Jefferson was reclined on the couch; lazily as if he owned the entire world. His shirt was discarded and something was bunched up in his hand, held to his nose. A glazed sheen of absolutely delicious-looking sweat made his dark skin almost glow as Hamilton openly analysed every single element of what he was seeing. The hand that wasn't holding fabric to practically smother his nose and mouth was clasped around the thickest, longest length Alexander had ever seen; and of course Jefferson had a _handsome_ dick that resembled a work of art with its blooming tip and veined curves, and of course he had a hard time looking away from it. Eyes that had previously been screwed shut snapped open like a fan at Hamilton's outburst, brown lust-filled things meeting green wide ones. Was he close? What was he thinking of? 

"I'm. I'm just." He wasn't one to squeak when he spoke, nor was he one to be rendered speechless, no, not at all. He and Thomas were both frozen, equally shocked and equally embarrassed. Alex had to practically tear his eyes away from the man he'd got in the most indulgent self-pleasuring he'd ever witnessed to grab his phone off of the coffee table with a few hurried strides. A fire-like heat was licking its way up his body and gripping him like a vice, leaving his skin bloomed with pink as he fumbled with his mobile device and hurried away from the scene and back into the safety of his own room. 

The vibrations of his door slamming closed behind his back was enough to ground him into breathing again, gasping for air though it all felt thick and empty around him. His heart was thundering in his chest like a symphony as he steadied himself, properly realising what he just witnessed. Thomas was jerking off. On the couch. On _their_ couch. In the living room. In _their_ living room. Had he stopped, or kept going? Had he ran to his room? No, Hamilton hadn't heard footsteps or the frantic opening and closing of a door. His cheeks were aflame, a palette mixture of fascination and bewilderment, that same heat treading down his gut and towards his- 

A buzzing in his hand cut off his attentions towards his troubling bodily responses, and with a shaking hand he retrieved his phone to squint at the screen. Thumbing through his password, a heart-skipping message greeted him: 

(3) New Messages 

**[1:24 AM] Jeffershit:** Holy fuck I'm so sorry 

**[1:25 AM] Jeffershit:** I was so tired I didn't even realise where I was 

**[1:29 AM] Jeffershit:** Do you want me to leave? I understand if you do 

_Fuck..._ Hamilton's mind supplied him uselessly as he re-read over the messages several times. Leave? No, the man didn't need to do that. Goddammit, why didn't they teach you in school how to deal with catching your drop-dead gorgeous housemate wanking like his life depended on it in the living room? Alexander physically shook his head as he moved to sit down on his bed, attempting to ground himself enough to produce a coherent reply. They'd never been in a predicament like this together, and Alex didn't know what to think. Had Thomas been just as pent up and tense as he had lately? After deleting and rewriting his message approximately seven times, he managed to proudly reply to the clearly worried other. 

**[1:31 AM] Hamilbitch:** no no man it's fine don't worry, not a big deal 

**[1:31 AM] Hamilbitch:** you don't have 2 go 

After a powerful, passing thought, he added: 

**[1:32 AM] Hamilbitch:** feel free to continue 

Lightening the mood always worked, right? He felt anxious flurries tickling at him uncomfortably as he watched the 'read' receipt bounce bellow his messages on the Facebook app, his teeth worrying his bottom lip as he waited to see if Thomas would reply. Alex's head gracelessly flipped onto his pillow, hair fanning out around him alike a chocolaty halo. His eyes were beginning to drift, feeling hazy and heavy with an annoying lust brimming at the surface of his skin. Thomas looked just as good as he had thought. Just as strong, just as handsome, just as hung- 

**[1:35 AM] Jeffershit:** Oh, are you giving me permission, Mr. Hamilton? 

A slithering grin stretched over Alexander's lips as he read that message, chuckling a low sound out of his throat before he replied: 

**[1:36 AM] Hamilbitch:** you didn't need my permission before though, did you, mr. jefferson?

Was Thomas still touching himself? A thrill of adrenaline was holding him hostage, almost pushing his confidence to the masses. 

**[1:37 AM] Hamilbitch:** you want some help with that 

As soon as he'd sent that message, his cocky grin was quickly replaced with panic. Shit what had he just done? It was teasing before, a way to break the ice on a very uncomfortable situation. Familiar anxiety was practically beating his chest now, making him feel sick as his thoughts began to swirl on Thomas' response. The 'read' receipt mocked him alike a bully in high school as it flashed beneath his message. His worries were interrupted briefly by Lafayette's words echoing through his thoughts, twining between the anxiety and attempting to calm his nerves: _'I think he just wants to fuck you_

Alexander almost missed the insistent buzzing in his palm once again, almost too afraid to check it. No, if it was overly negative, Thomas would've come to confront him. He was so assertive and not afraid of an argument. Hamilton's eyes practically rolled into the back of his head as he ground, fingers involuntarily curling into the sheets. _'Fuck, would he be the same in bed?'_

**[1:39 AM] Jeffershit:** I'm practically fucking my hand while I talk to you. Does that answer your question? 

His dick definitely felt interest in the message he had to read over about five times before he snapped back into reality. A barely held-back whine escaping through his teeth as he fumbled with his boxers and finally touched himself. 

"Fuck..." he couldn't help but moan, his fingers feeling almost painful along his stiff election as he gave a few tugs to the silken skin. Thomas wanted him, wanted him more than just teasing. He could practically hear the text read out in the man's voice, lazy and challenging him to bite back. And he was never one to step down from a duel. 

**[1:40 AM] Hamilbitch:** bet you would want to fuck something much tighter than your hand, could take you in so deep 

It felt like an absolutely filthy competition as he licked his palm, heavy breaths bouncing off of his phone screen that was the complete focus of his attention despite pulling himself off. Jefferson was thick, long, he'd be able to fill Alexander deeply. The man was muscular and fit, could probably manhandle him any way he wanted. Another moan rolled from his mouth and made his hips buck up into his fist as he thought of that, cheeks burning at the prospect of ruling Thomas up enough into taking control of him, shutting him up. As if reading his thoughts, a follow up message arose to tease him just as much as his own hand: 

**[1:42 AM] Jeffershit:** I saw the way you stared, Alexander. If you just wanted me to fuck you over the couch all you had to do was ask. 

A moan, a beat, a response. 

**[1:42 AM] Hamilbitch:** don't act like you don't want me just as bad. did i get you hard challenging you? you wanna dominate me and i know it 

**[1:43 AM] Jeffershit:** I'm man enough that I won't deny that. Got your shirt here and you smell so, so good. I'd have you ride me, baby, pound you deep enough that you'd be seeing stars. 

"Shit..." a stuttered breath escaped Alexander as he pictured that, hands grasping at his roommate's handsome chest as he rode him, being told how to do it just right and being scorned for teasing Thomas too right. He'd be able to push and push and _push_ the other, only to get it back just as good. Bringing his hand up to his lips, he suckled on his index finger. Lathering it up as thoroughly as he could be bothered until his body moved through muscle memory up onto his knees, readying for what was to come. 

**[1:45 AM] Hamilbitch:** i could have you go blind with how good i'd make you feel. i'm fingering myself right now and it's not enough, im so tight and so so good, thomas. you want it so bad, don't you? 

He wasn't about to give the other the satisfaction of messing up his sexts with typos or incorrect grammar. Who would break and mess up first? Alexander whined at his own mental image, his fingers working deep within himself and reaching for that good spot within him. The slight burn of the lacking in prep hurt in the best way, making this feel all the more raw and _real_ , he was here, jerking off and sexting Thomas Jefferson of all people. He felt the familiar tightness of an orgasm brushing his gut, but goddamn did he not want to come before the other. How would he know? Why were they doing this, so far away but so close? He could have the real thing and yet- 

**[1:46 AM] Jeffershit:** Oh baby, I could come to your bed right now and fill you up all the way, do you so much better than your fingers. My cock's the only thing that should be inside you, making you feel good. You gonna come for me? 

That last message was what pushed him over the edge. The hot burst of bright pleasure that had him seeing stars and moaning deeply as he came untouched, suddenly and so surprising as Thomas' mental images flooded his brain. Ropes of cum splashed his lower stomach, taut with climax and leaving him breathless. The most overwhelming orgasm he'd ever had currently glazed his abdomen and leaving him flushed with lust. Alexander scrambled to take a photo then, hands shaking as he framed his spent cock and cum-painted bottom half. He was sure Thomas was so close, and he wasn't about to not deliver as much pleasure as he had gotten. With that, he mustered the dirtiest message he could, fingers furiously flying over his keypad as he curated a sext that had even his own wilting erection interested again. 

**[1:49 AM] Hamilbitch:** you made me mess myself thinking about having you balls deep in my ass, didn't even have to touch myself to come when i was too busy wondering how you'd taste 

If the loud, throaty noise from the living room was anything to go by, he'd done his job just fine. The blissed-out satisfaction took over his body, making him feel warm and content as he regained his regular breathing, snickering slightly at the next imagine Thomas sent him as a partner to his own image - the man's spent length, looking all sorts of delicious and making his mouth water. And as the two lay there, their air evening out, their bodies return from the high, a mutual feeling escaped both parties in one word: 

"Fuck."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thomas and alex sext like porn stars sorry i don't make the rules


	4. Tumbles and Coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaa im so sorry this took so long to put out!!! i've been so busy but i promise i haven't forgotten about this, there's defo more to come. i'm sorry about the short chapter, this is kind of a Filler chapter to see Thomas' POV of things. but enjoy please!

"Okay, I'm going to need you to rewind again." 

Thomas honestly didn't think it was that big of a deal. He'd had multiple partners in the past, had seen them come and go throughout his life both sexually and romantically. Sure, his fling with Hamilton had been slightly out of the blue- but surely it shouldn't be treated any differently. It'd be a solid two days since the incident and he had still yet to encounter his small roommate. The taller man had a slight hunch that he was being avoided. 

Brown eyes rolled like a bowling ball at James Madison, Thomas' best friend that had been interrogating him for about two hours now. They were sat in a quaint café Thomas had discovered when he first moved to New York, a little French place that did the best coffee he'd ever tasted. There was nowhere alike to it, even in Virginia. He stared down into his sugary brew, prodding at the silken liquid with a spoon as if it'd reveal his destiny. Thomas shouldn't feel indifferent, Alexander wasn't special – they were both two grownups who were both equally frustrated, equally pent up, and damn, he'd admit it. Alex was good looking, although he'd never thought a small, shouty gremlin would be his type. But, damn, the short bout of passion that was there late-night sexting left Thomas breathless and warm in all the right places, and he hadn't even _touched_ the other. It'd been the most intense orgasm he'd ever had in his life, and that reminder scared the man slightly. 

"Hamilton walked in on me jerking off, we sexted, end of," he felt like a damn preacher at this point. "Honestly, James. It's not a big deal." 

James scoffed, lightly, never making a scene in public. Thomas adored his best friend, but he was sometimes a bit too proper. "Only you would call having phone sex with the so-called 'Freakish gnome roommate' that you 'hate' not a big deal," Madison was full of amusement, and Thomas couldn't help his frown in an involuntary reaction. He hated being the subject of humiliation. "I'm silently glad that you seem to find drama anywhere you can, your life is a soap opera so that mine doesn't have to be." 

Thomas huffed as his friend laughed, taking a sip of the bitter black coffee he preferred. _Alexander preferred his coffee black too_. "I don't think your gratefulness is 'silent' if you literally tell me to my face." 

Their conversation was then interrupted by an aggressive ringing from the table. Thomas couldn't help but be slightly thankful for his oblivious saviour as he reached for his mobile, turning to Madison with a: "Hold that thought," before he excused himself from the dainty wooden table. Towards his better judgement he moved out of the quiet establishment as to not disturb the other patrons before answering his phone call, engulfed by the simmering noises of the city streets. 

" _Est-ce que t'es insensé?!_ " 

Oh shit... 

"Uh...salut, Lafayette," Thomas tried, fingers tugging nervously at the thick curls resident on the back of his head. Perhaps he had forgotten to tell Laf, the mutual friend between himself and Alexander, about their little romp. He'd known the Frenchman a while before Alex, having studied abroad in France and made quick friends with the eccentric individual. The years of knowledge he had on the other was more than enough to inform him that he'd be receiving a lecture right about now. _'Knowing Hamilton and his big mouth, he's probably blabbed to Laf already...'_

" _Salut? Salut?!_ I learn that you and Alexander basically fuck each other over text and you say _'Salut'_?" Thomas physically cringed at the bite in that French accent, breathing heavily into the chilly November air with a slight shiver. The magenta coat he adorned was snug against his muscles, sheltering him slightly from the cold, but not nearly enough. 

"I was gonna tell you, I just..." he trailed off, a quick spin of his usual well-witted mind coming up empty on excuses. 

"Don't you lie to me, Thomas," God, he felt like he was being told off by his mother. "What were you thinking? Have you even spoken to Alex yet? He's a...eh...mess! Mess that is hot." Jefferson didn't bother correcting his friend's english, knowing he'd be in for another scorn if he did so. 

"I wanted to talk about it, alright? Alex has been avoiding me for the past two days and how the fuck do you even bring up that conversation?" He could hear his voice marinated with rage that he didn't mean to be taking out on his friend, but he hadn't vented yet. "'Hey Hamilton, I know you walked in on me jerking off and then proceeded to talk me off, but I just wanted to sit down and have a little chit chat about it with you'". It was his constant life mission to shut Alexander Hamilton up, and the one time he actually wanted to have a conversation the man was MIA. 

"Alexander is a...certain character, mon amour," Lafayette sighed down the phone, frustration more than evident. "I love him to pieces, though he struggles with these sorts of...eh...deep emotions he has. As much as that little fireball talks, it his difficult for him to connect." 

Thomas pinched the bridge of his nose and he sighed, trying to understand his friend's words. He and Hamilton had never sat down and had any sort of 'deep' chat, hell, he knew just about every single one of that little man's mannerisms, habits and...faults. However, he was practically a laymen when it came to how the man acted emotionally. The only emotion he and Alexander had ever revealed to one another was...well...anger, amusement, nothing too deep and nothing too limited. Hell, Thomas felt a strange squeeze in his chest as he continued listening to Lafayette, slightly absently. Was it wrong that he'd never had something like this with Hamilton? 

\--- 

Thomas arrived home that evening after his pleasantries with James, Lafayette's advice ringing in his ears like a hollow wind from the chilled air. Scuffing his sleety boots against the welcome mat and shedding his coat, his eyes doing a quick survey of the house. From the view of the living room and kitchen he had from the doorway, it was practically alike to a ghostly wasteland. _The one time I want to see Alexander..._

The tall man made his way towards his bedroom, rucksack in tow. He'd done some sketching before meeting with James, mapping out a few commissions he had planned out. Art had been his passion for years, having started from a young age in France. He found a release of emotion in his practise, his troubled past able to be reflected in a beautiful way rather than through a dangerous outlet. An uneasy rush made the dark skinned man cringe as unwanted thoughts of life in his home in Virginia began to consume him like some sort of swarm of negativity, and he physically shook himself to rid that feeling. 

_You're valid. You're important. You're loved._

A loud, thundering crash interrupted his spiralling, head snapping up and darting around towards the direction of Hamilton's room as a curt _"Shit!"_ drew from within. Fear for the source who made the other half of the rent, nothing else, Thomas jumped into action. Long, lean legs quickening his movements before he busted into the other's room without so much as a knock. He was sure they'd slightly passed any sort of boundaries at this point, though he still couldn't have prepared himself for what he stumbled upon. 

Alexander Hamilton himself, in all his glory, a messy heap on his floor. A quick survey confirmed to Thomas that the man must've fallen somehow, if the overturned chair and mess of papers on the ground said anything; along with the small victim of the incident amongst them. Hair a mess around him, long green hoodie shucked up his legs, and- 

_'Holy shit what'_

"Fuck, fuck, fuck..." the shorter of the pair was muttering, sitting up and collecting his distraught papers. Hamilton's face was bloomed red, clearly in anger and embarrassment as he barely acknowledged Thomas, though the latter of the pair could barely focus on anything else than the pair of black-rimmed glasses sad on Alexander's nose. How had he never seen those? Did he normally wear contact lenses? _'Damn, he looks good...'_

"Didn't mean to disturb you, just, took a tumble," Thomas quickly realised he was staring at his roommate on the ground and instead leaned down to help in the collection of papers; doing so much more efficiently than the sheepish man gathering himself off of the floor. 

"No, don't worry, was just worried about you," Thomas coughed, watching with a slight cringe as Alexander hissed and gripped his knee. Damn, he could already see a bruise flowering on the shorter man's joint, and despite how annoying Hamilton could be - he did feel bad for the other. "Fuck, you alright?" 

"It's...I don't think anything's broken, just really sore." Alex concluded then, looking over the red skin and touching it carefully. Thomas moved to stack the papers onto his desk, careful of the slight crinkled copies before he moved his hand to the other's slim waist. He couldn't help the curl of his fingers on the curvy skin, feeling the surprisingly toned muscle of the other's side. _'Damn...'_

"I'm gonna help you stand, okay? On three..." after a brief countdown, he helped Hamilton to his feet. A bit wobbly at first, and he could completely see through the shorter individual's attempt at hiding his extreme discomfort. So headstrong and independent, it's something he greatly admired about the other (though he'd never admit that to that cocky little gremlin). "Nah, this isn't working, I'm gonna have to carry you." 

An exaggerated laughter practically stuck a frown onto Thomas' forehead, making him glare at the irritating creature that was staring back up at him as if he'd just dropped down onto earth right there and then. Alexander's humour was practically barked at him, fitting as the man often acted like a needy chihuahua. "I'd rather decapitate myself than have you, a freakishly tall, giraffe-ass, moose looking–" 

The beginnings of a 'hamilrant', as Thomas had lovingly called Alexander's infamous speeches, was completely cut off as he instead scooped the injured man into his arms. Holding him bridal style despite the squeaky protests shrieking out of Alexander like some sort of demented squeeze-toy. Jesus, the other was small. Jefferson lifting him with ease, holding him carefully and minding his injured knee. It was oddly domestic, again, as he carried his roommate into the living room. This wasn't the first time he'd noted Alexander's clumsiness, and it was slightly cute when the other wasn't hurting himself. He found Alex staring back up at him as he glanced down, expression unreadable. Lafayette's earlier guidance reverberated like a mantra in his thoughts, currently reflected by the way Alexander was able to so easily cut himself off. Sure, he profoundly wore his opinion on his sleeve; was so expressive and emotional in them...but this was an entirely different situation. 

Arriving in the living room, Thomas carefully laid Alexander onto the couch. He promptly ignored a few mumbles of protest, again, before he made his way into the kitchen next. Rooting through the freezer he managed to find an old bag of peas, probably the first use for the things in months. He refused to not use fresh fruits and vegetables from local markets, branding him to be 'pompous' by Hamilton. If pompous meant buying wonderful products that he loved and cherished then, yeah, sue him. Smiling at his handiwork he retreated back to his patient, leaning down to be able to reach Alexander's knee that was now resembling a plum. He cringed slightly at the pain the other must be feeling as he gently pressed the makeshift ice pack onto his wound; bite of the frost shielded in one of his magenta kitchen towels. He could tell Hamilton wash bashful, silent for one as he adjusted his glasses and takes a few fingers through his hair. Still cute. 

"That feel any better?" 

"Yeah...a lot," he watched the man's face contort briefly, as if thinking something over before he added a quiet: "Thank you." 

Thomas was, for the most part, shocked at the thanks. He was sure he could count on one hand how many times Alexander had ever expressed gratitude towards him, and it was a nice feeling. "No worries," carefully elevating the man's legs briefly, he moved to sit beneath them on the couch; laying them down onto his lap and adjusting the ice back onto his knee. "Now, you gonna tell me what happened?" He didn't have any sarcasm or bite in his tone, for once. Jefferson found himself smiling at the other actually, especially when he saw Alex attempting to hide the smile matching his own. 

"Don't laugh...even knowing you that you still _will_ laugh," He laughed at that, getting a slight kick in the side from his roommate's able leg. "I couldn't find my contact lenses and have a spare box on the shelf above my desk, so I stood on the chair to reach them and..." he trailed off briefly, looking embarrassed once more "Clearly one of the wheels is faulty." 

Thomas couldn't help his laughter then, a pity sort of sound that felt more like the lyrics to Hamilton's instrumental, insistent whined protests. After a while, Alex joined in on his infectious laughter, the two of them seizing up on the couch slightly as they did so; all embarrassment gone with the wind and replaced with amusement. Jefferson sucked in a breath them, his chuckles dying down as he feigned wiping tears from his eyes. "I had no idea you even needed glasses," he studied the man's face again, not being able to cease the urge he suddenly had to lean forwards and move a strand from the man's face to tuck behind his ear. Just looking deeply into those green eyes as he did, framed like a painting by his glasses. Fuck. "They're cute." 

Again, that endearing pink bloomed upon his cheekbones as he pushed at Thomas' hand slightly, huffing a "I'm not 'cute' you ass..." though, there was still no bite in the other's articulate voice. "They are merely instruments to aid in the extremely unfortunate disability life has tossed at me." 

A beat or two, and Thomas laughed again. "It's even cuter than you think saying some shit like that makes you any less adorable." Why the fuck was he saying all this? Any rational thought was gone at that moment, he felt good and that blush was practically begging him to make its shade darker. Thomas remembered then what he'd been trying to accomplish with the man for the past few days, prior conversations he'd had that day finally catching up to him as if he were in a race with his own thoughts. "Can we talk about what happened on Friday night?" 

Alexander's eyes snapped up then, briefly darting around as if he were actually considering running away again. He watched the man almost physically bite the bullet then, forcing words out of his mouth. "I'm...sorry. I didn't mean to avoid you, I just...what the fuck, you know?" 

Thomas nodded in agreement, definitely knowing what the brunette meant. "I agree. But..." he fiddled with the worn material of Alexander's trousers then, a tightness in his chest speaking volumes of how difficult this is. It shouldn't be difficult, it wasn't like they were even _friends_ "I don't regret it, alright?" Alexander stared at him then, almost bewildered, and he ignored it as he continued. "Yes, you annoy the shit out of me, you're loud and I honestly still think that you're the hobbit out of the Lord of the Rings film," another kick to his side, "But it was hot as fuck. You're hot as fuck, alright? Not that that head needs to get any fucking bigger." 

Alex rolled his eyes then, slightly frowning at the back handed comment. "If I'm the hobbit that makes you that giant, creepy wizard that acts like he permanently a stick up his butt," of course the little dickhead had to get that in there. "However...I, uh, agree with you. It was sexy, I haven't..." Hamilton trailed off then, as if debating he should be telling any of him this. _'Hell, should I be telling any of the short stack this myself?'_

"I haven't been turned on like that in ages." He was shocked to see his roommate admit that, clearly obvious on his features as Alex groaned; giving him another shove. "Don't look at me like that. You know you're good looking, and I mean..." green eyes slipped down then, staying on Thomas' crotch and _definitely_ causing a bodily reaction he had absolutely no control over, those eyes were practically touching him with the hunger he could see in them. "I like a man that's well gifted." 

Well, damn. The two sat in silence for a while, his hand becoming numb from the cold seeping through the rag from the other's knee. He studied the magenta colour, praying for any sort of advice or guidance before deciding he was alone in this, and he needed to say something soon before the air got beyond awkward. "What does this mean? You and I clash harder than the sun and rain, we both know that." 

"I'm not opposed to fucking around, Jefferson," Hamilton suggested, his eyebrows waggling so obnoxiously that it made the taller man laugh. "We'd both get pleasure, and have a safe outlet for our frustrations, right?" Alex sat up slightly then, moving his legs almost in too much of the right way over Thomas' lap. "Besides, we've always been in competition, I definitely bet I could make you come first by literally looking at your dick with my glasses on." 

The humorous nature returned then, fizzling out the brief irritation they had with one another. So, this was it? They were gonna become fuck buddies? God, this felt a little bit wrong. But damn, forbidden fruit was practically served up on a pristine platter to Thomas; and he wasn't about to turn it down. "I'm sorry, weren't you the same one who fucked himself pretending it was my cock? Or did I mistaken that somewhere?" Alexander coughed then, seemingly choking on air, but that wasn't going to stop him. "If my memory is on my side, you also came first during that little tête à tête." 

"That was because I was using my _own_ tools," Alex demanded, a fierce look in his eyes accompanied by a sultry sort of grin. "I one-hundred-percent believe I could get myself off faster than you could ever get me off." 

Thomas could've laughed at that. Oh, so now he was challenging? "That feels like a competition waiting, Hamilton." 

"Maybe you should find out if it is, Jefferson." 

"Is your knee feeling better?" 

"Fuck yes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im addicted to comments so pls Fulfil my addiction 
> 
> French:   
> • est-ce que t'es insensé?! = are you insane?!  
> • salut = hi   
> • tête à tête = head to head


	5. Toys and Fried Chicken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay i am SO sorry for how long it's taken to post this shit. i've not forgotten about this story at all! i've just been unbelievably busy lately. a couple of things before we start:
> 
> \- im thinking of starting a new fanfic, still jamilton, centred around the soulmate AU, so let me know if any of you would be interested in reading that alongside this fic!   
> \- would any of you be interested in me making a twitter or tumblr to interact with me/have me post updates on the stories? let me know!   
> \- and most of all, enjoy!

Talking about that little incident had gone much better than Alex had ever imagined. 

A vice grip in his hair matched the hold he had on the railing at the foot of the bed, tight and whitening his knuckles. A hot, breathy chuckle against his ear was the only outward sensation he could currently pay attention too; well, that and the steady buzzing flooding his lower half. Alexander gasped as two long, elegant fingers tapped at the base of the toy lazily sat within him, held steady by the hand to which they belonged. An attempt to hang his head was left to no avail as that strong hand kept him level. Every single twitch and twist he made sent fiery jolts through his veins, making the small man moan with trepidation. 

In short, he felt _alive_. 

"Need me to stop, shortstack?" Thomas' voice got about twice as deep during sex, husky and dripping with poisoned honey. A bruising grip on his hip shook him from his thoughts, making him hiss slightly, gritting his teeth against the pleasure-lined pain. 

"Not in a million years," his own voice was rough and panting, making him feel slightly inferior to the other. But god, that was an exhilarating feeling in itself - the other was strong and capable of holding him down, Alex loved it more than he cared to admit it. 

The thick dildo was shoved deeply into him, then, making him yell out slightly and tremble as he adjusted to the slightly burning stretch. He'd never felt so unbearably full before, fuck, never even had someone do this to him in his life. Jefferson didn't let up, not even as he released an involuntary whimper. He never did. 

"I can't believe I've never found this little toy of yours before," the darker man hummed, moving the intimate object in slow, circular movements within Alexander. The shorter man could feel every single glide inside of him, could barely even pay attention to what his bed-mate was saying. "Can't say I'm surprised, though. You're insufferably hungry for cock."

This arrangement had been going on for a little over two weeks now. When the frustrations and nerves of the two men became too much, they'd find each other and passionately collide in an explosion of pleasure. Alexander found himself plastered with bites and scratches, branded as a victim to the compromise he and Thomas had come to. The house had been extremely calmer ever since, the two equally balancing out the other's annoyance or anger and replacing it with a fiery pleasure. And, Alexander found that Thomas was more than a generous lover, if the limp he found himself with on more than one occasion had any say in the matter. 

"I'll let you come if you do something for me," Thomas' voice interrupted Alexander's thoughts then, piquing the shorter man's interest enough with the promise of release. He turned to look back at the other, quirking an eyebrow at the very focused expression Jefferson wore. One of the man's large hands smoothed down his well-toned form then, stopping at the thickened erection and adjusting his arousal with purpose. It made Alexander shake. 

"If you suck me off well enough, I could be swayed..." god, even his dirty talk was gratingly pompous. A few hairs was stroked away from Alex's dampened forehead, his chin gripped so that he was moved to lock eyes against those dark brown orbs, brimming with mirth. "Put those pretty lips to actual work." 

Hamilton was released then, holding the railing just right enough to not topple and fall onto the fucking floor. _'Asshole'_. Despite the soreness of his lithe form, he moved to face Jefferson, who had decidedly taken to lounging now like some sort of nobility against his pillows. He looked like something out of a porn magazine; a thin sheen of sweat making his dark skin glow, muscular legs spread and leaving nothing to imagination. Alex's previously dried mouth watered at the presentation. 

"You going do something? Or are you going to continue ogling me like some sort of blood-thirsty predator?" Thomas said. 

The boiling anger he felt in his veins didn't manage to override the pleasure, as he found himself almost automatically moving up the man's legs. "Can you blame me when you're laying there like some sort of god waiting to be served?" His words had no real bite to them, not like the marks he was leaving on Thomas' thighs as he ventured towards the man's sex. It was thrilling to render the other silent, just like how he had done in turn. Jefferson spoke during sex like he was reciting a script, but it still turned Alexander on more powerfully than anything ever had before. 

He'd given head before, Thomas was by no means his first excursion in that department. But it felt entirely different with this man. He was capable of being entirely in control without having a whole lot of control, Alex had never found himself involuntarily moaning as he sucked someone off, but here he was. Licking and engulfing the other in all the ways he'd learnt to do, groaning and grinding his hips into the mattress as he did. Alexander still had no clue if he really did have a praise kink, or if it was just Thomas. 

He tasted exactly how he held himself. Strong, overwhelming, and damn-right powerful. Alex swallowed every drop, ringing the man for all he was worth as he squeezed and fondled the other's balls. 

It hadn't take much longer for Alexander to come too, pushed over the edge with the mere sound of Thomas Goddamn Jefferson's voice. _"That's a good boy, yeah."_ _"You gonna come on me, hm? That what you want?"_ Despite the exhaustion that had begun to capture the taller man's body, he still grabbed for Alex. Pulling him into his lap and tugging him off quick and dirty. It hurt, but in possibly the best way he'd ever experienced. 

The hot, thick air of sex engulfed the pair then as they lay, heavy breaths leaving ragged throats as the two basked in the afterglow that came with fucking. Alexander knew how many times he'd been here, quickly cleaned up by the wipes and tissues Thomas had started keeping in his bedside drawer, wrapped up in the other's soft sheets that smelt of fucking roses. He hated how his own bed felt slightly empty without the smell and feel of Thomas. The press of the mattress wasn't the same, it was such a different warmth, and that scared him. 

"I'm fucking starving," Alex piped up then, not missing the way Thomas' relaxed expression scrunched up in slight annoyance as a silent response, making the longer-haired man roll his eyes as his body simultaneously rolled into a sitting position. "I get hungry after sex, sue me." 

"I can't see why," Thomas said, studying his nails as if they held all of the secrets in the universe. "Seeing as you literally _just_ got fed. By me." 

Alex cringed then, grabbing his green hoodie and tugging it over his head, a quickly muttered: "How the fuck do I get turned on by you," before he left the room and ventured into the kitchen. 

The need for a quick snack called popcorn to the table, bursting away alike to a background melody as Alex patiently waited, thumbing away through his phone as he sipped on a glass of cranberry good. It was good, no matter how much Thomas hated it. 

(2) New Messages 

**JohnTurtleBoi:** hey man! 

**JohnTurtleBoi:** you wanna grab dinner at all? 

Alex smiled down at his phone, feeling the familiar fondness he held for his best friend. Laurens was probably the most genuine, kind-hearted person he'd ever met; he deserved the entire world. He felt a sly grin creeping onto his features as he typed out his reply, still relentlessly teasing his friend for the crush he harboured for Monsieur Marquis De Lafayette. 

**AlexPoetBoi:** gasp! john, have you given up on your crush for that french fox and moved onto his shorter, but much hotter, smarter, and funnier friend? 

**JohnTurtleBoi:** ha ha. you wish. i still wish i could just _text_ him, at least. it'd be lovely to get to know him 

**AlexPoetBoi:** laf has an incredible belief in fate and love, he thinks that if it's meant to be, you'll happily sail off into the sunset together on a diamond-crusted yacht 

Alexander chuckled gently as he hit send to his reply, shaking his head fondly at the overly-romantic man. John would be in for a wild ride whenever Lafayette next visited, the Frenchman and his beloved dream for a 'prince charming'. Laurens certainly had the air of one.

**JohnTurtleBoi:** i look more than forwards to it, then 

**JohnTurtleBoi:** but the offer still stands, i want fried chicken dude 

Hamilton pulled the hot bag out of his microwave, wincing at the slight burn against his thumb as he filled the large, blue bowl up with the buttery snack. Despite himself, he cast a glance towards Thomas' bedroom, debating. He hadn't genuinely hung out with John in a long time, and he missed his friend. The uncomfortable want he felt to hang around Jeffershit was more than obvious in his chest, but damn, it'd be good to have an outside opinion of this _thing_ that was going on between the two of them. 

Arguing about another animated film could wait for another night. 

**AlexPoetBoi:** so, what are you thinking, KFC or Popeye's? 

He could practically feel the joy in John's response. 

**JohnTurtleBoi:** Popeye's, duh! they do the best fries for sure, and don't get me started on those fucking biscuits. 

**AlexPoetBoi:** okay chill out before you mess urself. what time you want to meet? 

**JohnTurtleBoi:** god you're disgusting. 7, mine? 

Alexander typed out a quick response before cutting his phone off, leaving it in the pocket of his hoodie before he took the bowl and his juice back into Thomas' room. He'd be willing to share. A tiny bit. Jefferson was only dressed in a pair in satin boxers, still laying on the bed and flicking through his phone. He seemed slightly annoyed with the contents of his mobile, furiously typing something out. Hamilton felt not buzz or indication of a message from his own device, so it certainly wasn't a reply to their on going argument about which Spider-Man is better. Not that Alexander cared. They weren't dating, he could text whoever the fuck he wanted to text. 

Thomas immediately attacked the popcorn once Alex had settled onto the bed, setting his juice onto the overly fancy end-table and indulging in some of _his_ snack as well. This wasn't new, the familiar silence that came after they came, literally. It was as if the pair had a sort of silent agreement not to fully acknowledge what they were doing. And Alex was more than fine with that. It was comfortable this way, lounging against Thomas' legs as they both ate, the quietness welcomed more than awkward. 

"It okay if James comes over tonight?" Alex have a lazy nod to Thomas' question, slightly bummed that he hadn't ever met Thomas' best friend before. He'd be missing the golden opportunity to embarrass his roommate yet again. 

"Yeah, no worries. I'm going to John's anyways," Alex said, lazily tracing patterns into Jefferson's legs. Neither of them had ever mentioned it, so he kept doing it. "It's not fair that I haven't met James before, why are you keeping us apart?" 

Thomas snorted, a noise Alex couldn't help but find a tiny weeny bit (like the smallest in the world) cute. It wasn't exactly rare that he made the other laugh, whether it be at him or with him, but each time felt like a sort of award in itself. "Same reason why you refuse to let me meet John - I don't want you scaring him away," Jefferson almost automatically dodged the pillow weakly tossed at his head, then, giving Alexander a slight shove with his leg. "Or is it that you're worried John and I will hit it off and you won't get laid anymore?" 

Alexander laughed then, more mockingly than anything else (and definitely not acknowledging that _weird_ feeling in his chest). "Oh, please. One, John is beyond infatuated with Lafayette. Two, I could say the same for you," he ignored Thomas attempting to interrupt him, instead carrying on with his counting. "And, three, by the way you were literally screaming as you came down my throat like, twenty minutes ago, you wouldn't pass up the opportunity to fuck me whenever you got it." His conclusions were met with a brief staring competition that lasted roughly thirty seconds, before Thomas broke it off, submitting with a small: 

"...Touché." 

\--- 

Two hours later Alex was picking at greasy chicken that his best friend oh so loved, listening to John go on about how his turtles were doing. His best friend was by no means shy in the workplace, but he was usually overpowered by Alexander's strong opinions and presence; so the short man made sure to occasionally let the other take the reigns in the conversation when they were alone (or, so he thought he did). And he was paying attention, he really was, but his thoughts were far too distracted by Thomas. A mess of Thomas this, Jefferson that, and why? An uncomfortable ache was squeezing at his chest, like he was keeping a big secret from everyone. And he was, in a way. Only Lafayette knew of their arrangement, the pair had made a point of that. But, why was it a secret? They weren't dating, weren't partners. Why did he feel so weird about it? 

"Hey, Alex? You seem distant, man," John's concern was far more prominent than the annoyance Alex would feel if someone wasn't properly listening to him; but, again, that's just the kind of person John was. 

"Yeah, no, fuck. I'm sorry, man. I was listening, I'm really glad Leo and Nelly are doing good," Alexander quickly reassured the other, referencing the two turtles on the left hand side of his friend's room. Just the mention of them seemed to make the other beam. "I've just got...something...going on." 

"Do you want to talk about it?" He wasn't pressing, just a simple question, but god it was difficult to answer. He did want to talk about it with John, he needed to get someone else's take on it that wasn't as full of fairytales as Laf was. But he still felt that underlying fear, would his friend feel hurt that he hadn't told him sooner? Was it that big of a deal? Anxiety was making him sick, his stomach slightly churning as he met the other's worried, hazel eyes. 

"Please..." he released in a long breath, John's small, reassuring smile doing wonders to calm him down as he set his plate aside and began reciting one of the most strange situations he'd ever found himself in. 

\--- 

Thomas had decided on ordering Pizza Hut for himself and James rather than conjuring up his famous mac n'cheese yet again. Honestly, nothing was wrong with it, everyone else just had fucked up tastebuds. What wasn't delicious about cheesy pasta with bacon bits on top? Nothing. It'd been a while since James had been over, filled with general chatting, shitty reality TV shows they loved to roast, and delicious takeout. One of his most favourite evenings, so why did he feel so absent from this moment? 

_'It's obvious. It's Hamilton.'_

He'd been enjoying the deal he had decided on with his elf of a roommate far more than he expected. Alexander was experienced in bed, and it left him slightly jealous. He by no means wasn't falling behind in that department, but he felt in competition with the faceless suitors the other had. Though did Hamilton feel the same, then? Thomas couldn't read him yet. But, god, he was attractive. Not just in looks, he was an equal mix of sweet and absolutely filthy in bed, he wasn't afraid to outright demand what he wanted whilst still somehow acting as if he was a good submissive partner. It was thrilling to see his vocal arguments reflected in his physical movements. He grit his teeth as he stared at the flashy TV screen, deciding now wasn't the best of times to be thinking about the sounds and actions Hamilton saved for the bedroom. 

James knew, though. Thomas _knew_ that he knew. His best friend had a way of seemingly knowing what he was up to without him ever saying. He'd call it creepy if they weren't so close, and hell, he could never properly lie to Madison. That's how he found himself now, grilled to a crisp by a million questions from his friend that he had patiently answered, despite his annoyance. Not like he needed to think anymore deeply about this than he already had. 

"I kinda saw this coming, you know," James settled on then, despite the flabbergasted look Thomas shot his way at that revelation. "You're not exactly one to just have one-night-stands with people without it leading to something else." 

"That's not true. What about Lafayette? We fucked and we didn't have a thing..." Thomas tried, knowing it wasn't worth shit with the deadpanned stare James gave him in response.

"He's literally your carer now, that definitely did become something," He did have to commend James on that, he had a point. There was no romantic feelings between himself and his French friend, purely a mutual attraction they'd sorted out years ago. "Besides, I'm pretty sure you just jumped at the opportunity to literally fuck yourself." 

"Okay, okay, Jesus. I'm still missing your point, though?"

Thomas watched James sigh, adjusting slightly uncomfortably. Oh god, he knew exactly what that body language meant. He was about to get hit with some _real deep shit_. 

"Thomas...I don't want you getting in too deep, with whatever this thing is with Alexander," James began, and Thomas could tell how careful he was being with his words. "You have a habit of falling before you look to see if it's safe, first. I just don't want you hurt." 

Jefferson had never properly considered that, not fully. Alex was sexy, sure, but did he feel a hint of wanting him in the other, dangerous way? He didn't even want his heart to start hoping about that, so he sealed it off quickly. Stomping down that slight blooming feeling in his chest when he thought of Hamilton now. A month ago he wouldn't have believed it. _'Jesus, had it really been that long?'_

"Thank you, Jay," he squeezed his best friend's shoulder, giving him the best reassuring smile he could conjure up. James didn't seem the least bit convinced by him, but he didn't try to pressure anymore, to which Thomas was more than thankful. "I promise I'll be careful, alright, mom?" 

"And we're back to our regular scheduled programming of Douchebag Thomas." 

The two fell into laughter, playfully pushing and tossing empty sauce packets at one another. Thomas felt a full feeling in his chest at this moment in his life, with James, with Lafayette, with his art, _with Alexander_. It was miles away from the confined, harsh feelings of back home. 

_You are valid. You are loved._

\--- 

"So...you guys are like...fuck buddies?" 

Alexander had probably gone over this about five times with his best friend, now. He aggressively shook his head, nodding and clapping his hands as he dramatically collapsed on the bed, announcing a snarky: "And he's got it, folks!" Which earned a rightful kick to his side by John. The other had asked if it were a relationship at first, if they were just dating, messing around, before he'd finally settled on this. 

"Oh, come on. You two argue like an old married couple, you can fault me for at least theorising that you might be _together_ together..." John shrugged. 

"God no, I don't think we'd ever work," Alex lied to himself, knowing deep down he'd been thinking about that ruthlessly. _'Jefferson was an asshole, remember that.'_ "Besides, I'm pretty sure he's hooking up with his best friend, so. Whatever, I don't care." 

It was John's turn to roll his eyes then, clearly not buying anything Alexander was selling. "If you 'don't care' then what's with the frown?" Shit, had he been frowning? "Look, Alex..." God, he hated that soft tone his friend had whenever he was about to lay it on him, raw. "I know you don't really like talking about your feelin-" 

"Don't, John, please." It wasn't that deep. Couldn't be that deep, not now. He felt a familiar venom constricting his thoughts, anxiety rattling him like he was a simple pawn in his mind's twisted games. He practically spat the words at his friend, yet John didn't seem to mind. He was too good of a friend. "I'm sorry, can we just...do anything else." He settled on, the words significantly softer to the way he had snapped at his companion. 

"Of course," John's infectious, bright energy soon held him captive again, making him crank an uneasy smile at his friend. Alexander couldn't deal with that, not tonight. "Besides, we haven't watched Mean Girls yet, anyways." 

So as he settled into that evening, reciting almost word for word the classic rom-com with one of his closest friends, the thought of Jefferson still floated like a _dead fish_ at the top of his brain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alex and Thomas are stupid. im still addicted to comments, thank you for reading, again im sorry about the wait!

**Author's Note:**

> silly alexander. im addicted to comments! 
> 
> French:  
> • non? = no?  
> • A mon avis = in my opinion  
> • Tu est extrêmement pénible. Je pense que il a juste envie de te baise = you are extremely annoying. i think that he just wants to fuck you  
> • mon chou = literally means 'my sweet bun', laf is a little shit


End file.
